


Queen of Cups

by tinydooms



Series: We Three Together [4]
Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Budding Romance, Character Study, F/M, Friendship, respectful gentlemen, too much booze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms
Summary: Because that was it: he didn’t get Evelyn Carnahan at all. From the moment Rick had set eyes on her in Cairo Prison she had confused and wrong-footed him, with her beauty and her earnestness and her really rather relentless pursuit of her objective. Evelyn Carnahan was a gorgeous slip of a girl, the kind who looked like she should be drinking tea on the terrace of Shepheard’s Hotel and taking dainty donkey rides out to the Pyramids, not getting shot at by marauders and winning camel races across the desert and sneaking sarcophagi out from under the other team’s nose.
Relationships: Evy Carnahan O'Connell/Rick O'Connell
Series: We Three Together [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714483
Comments: 23
Kudos: 85





	Queen of Cups

**Queen of Cups**

_Hamunaptra, October 1922_

“Leave this place or die.”

Those had been the man’s words, but had anyone listened to him? _Of course not_ , Rick thought wryly, looking out over the ruins of Hamunaptra. God forbid they listen to the desert dwellers about what strangers could and could not do on their land. Still, it wasn’t as if they could just up and go now, tonight. It would take time to break camp, even their little one. The Americans’ camp would take a morning, at least. Tomorrow, then, after Evelyn had a chance to look inside the sarcophagus. If she was in any state to do that, mind. Rick swung his gaze back to the Carnahans and felt a grin creeping onto his face. 

He couldn’t help liking these two. Their solution to the day’s sordid events had been to get roaring drunk on the dead Warden’s expensive whiskey. Rick had kind of expected it of Jonathan, when he first found the bottle; the other man had been badly shaken by the Warden’s death, though he had tried hard not to show it. Rick understood that well enough. The War had taken an awful toll on all of its soldiers, and like so many men, Jonathan Carnahan should never have seen battle. After the Bedouin had ridden off, Jonathan had drunk half the bottle and put himself to bed near the fire, leaving Rick and Evelyn to share the rest. 

Evelyn, to Rick’s astonishment, knocked back three huge gulps of whiskey and became ebullient. He hadn’t thought that she was a neat whiskey kind of girl, but she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and informed him that she wanted to learn to fight. 

“You want to learn to fight,” Rick repeated. 

“Yes,” Evelyn said, taking another slug of whiskey and tottering to her feet. “I _am_ a woman, you know.” 

There was a certain logic to that statement and they _had_ just been attacked by Bedouins, so Rick showed Evelyn how to place her feet so that an opponent couldn’t knock her down, how to ball her fists so that she wouldn’t break her thumbs when striking. Evelyn bobbed on her feet, cackling, as he corrected her form. 

“Okay, tough stuff, try a right hook,” Rick said, assuming his own combat position. “Ball up your fist--like that; higher--and mean it.”

“ _Mean it_!” Evelyn cried, her fist slamming into Rick’s palm.

She did have a mean right hook, but she overbalanced and fell into Rick’s arms, laughing. She was warm and soft and smelled nice despite a day clambering around underground, and Rick was careful where he put his hands as he eased her to the ground. 

“Time for another drink,” he said, settling down beside her. 

He had meant for himself, since he hadn’t actually had any of the whiskey yet, but Evelyn, still giggling, took up the bottle and swigged. She was, Rick reflected, going to have a rotten hangover in the morning.

“Unlike my brother, sir, I know when to say no,” she said, planting the bottle back in the crook of Jonathan’s elbow. She wiped her hand over her mouth and snickered. 

“Uh-huh,” Rick said, amused. “And unlike your brother, miss, _you_ I just don’t get.”

Because that was it: he _didn’t_ get Evelyn Carnahan at all. From the moment Rick had set eyes on her in Cairo Prison she had confused and wrong-footed him, with her beauty and her earnestness and her really rather relentless pursuit of her objective. Evelyn Carnahan was a gorgeous slip of a girl, the kind who looked like she should be drinking tea on the terrace of Shepheard’s Hotel and taking dainty donkey rides out to the Pyramids, not getting shot at by marauders and winning camel races across the desert and sneaking sarcophagi out from under the other team’s nose. 

Evelyn laughed. “I know. You’re thinking, _what is a place like me doing in a girl like this?_ ”

Rick grinned. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well.” Evelyn scooted closer to him, weaving back and forth so that her hair almost tickled Rick’s face. “Egypt is in my blood, you see; my father was a very, very famous explorer--” she tugged on the chain around her neck, popping open the locket on it and holding it up to his face, “--and he loved Egypt so much, he married my mother, who was an Egyptian, and quite an adventurer herself.”

Rick took the little oval between his fingers and looked at the photographs inside. An English gentleman and an Egyptian lady gazed up at him, their faces serene. So the Carnahan children were mixed race and passing white--he bet the Great British Establishment just _loved_ that. It was plain to see where Evelyn had gotten her looks; her mother was gorgeous. Evelyn beamed at him, her eyes shining. Rick snapped the locket shut.

“I get your father, and I get your mother,” he said, letting the chain drop. He gestured at Jonathan. “I get _him_ . But what are _you_ doing here?” 

The thing was, Hamunaptra attracted people with the wrong kind of motivation. If Evelyn Carnahan had only wanted field experience, there were any number of digs she could join all along the Nile. Hamunaptra was for dreamers, for the greedy, for the foolish, for the lost. Evelyn didn’t strike Rick as being any of those things. She was young and she was inexperienced, sure, but she was also one of the smartest people Rick had ever met. And his confusion clearly annoyed her.

With a huff, Evelyn rocked back on her heels and staggered to her feet. 

“Look, I--I may not be an explorer or a--an adventurer or a treasure-seeker or a gunfighter, _Mr. O’Connell_ !” she exclaimed, weaving dangerously. Rick automatically raised a hand to steady her and pulled it away when it only came in contact with her derriѐre. “But I am _proud_ of what I am!” She raised herself up with all the dignity of a queen and looked out into the night. 

“And what is that?” Rick prompted. 

“I,” Evelyn announced, with such pride that Rick began to smile, “am a librarian!”

The words rang out into the quiet desert night, bright and full of satisfaction, and Rick remembered what she had said aboard the barge, about looking for the Golden Book of Amun-Ra. He grinned up at her, liking this girl more than he could say. Evelyn dropped to her knees before him. 

“I am going to kiss you, Mr. O’Connell,” she said, and Rick’s heart leaped. 

“Call me Rick,” he said, wondering if she was serious. They should at least be on first-name basis if this was actually going to happen.

“Oooh,” Evelyn said, her green eyes glowing in the firelight. “Rick.”

How was it that his own name, whispered reverently by a drunken English girl, could be such a turn-on? Evelyn tilted her gorgeous face towards him and let her eyes fall shut as she leaned in. Rick held still, letting her come towards him. This close, he could see a dusting of freckles on her nose. He tilted his head, letting his eyes fall closed, and abruptly snapped them open as Evelyn slumped forward into his chest and slid down his side with her face in his belt. Passed out. 

Rick looked down at her ruefully. _So close_. Evelyn sighed and burrowed into him. Well, that was thrilling and entirely inappropriate. Carefully, Rick gathered her up and lifted her off of himself before his body could react any further. Evelyn sighed again, well and truly out. Rick shook his head and chuckled; she was a firecracker, all right. Tucking one of her arms over his shoulders, he lifted her and carried her to bed. In a way it was good that they had “joined forces” with the Americans for the night, as it had meant bargaining extra supplies out of them, including the cot he had found for Evelyn. Rick laid her down on it and reached for his water bottle. He half-lifted Evelyn and coaxed some water down her throat; she drank without waking and he settled her down again. That ought to help with the hangover, at least a little. He shook out a blanket, making sure there were no snakes or scorpions inside, and settled it over her, snugging the ends all around her and under her chin. Nights got cold in the desert. 

“Hmmm,” Evelyn said.

“It’s okay, go to sleep,” Rick said, and let himself brush her curls off her forehead. _I could love this woman_ , he realized. He already liked her more than he could say. She was like nothing he had ever experienced. It didn’t scare him; he wasn’t one of those guys who disliked and resented women. It was just that he had never thought he would be in a position to love one. It was true, what he had said to Jonathan earlier. Rick had spent the last eight years expecting to die, had looked death in the face more than once and not expected to survive. He looked down at Evelyn Carnahan. _I could love you_ , he thought again. Hell, she had literally given him his life back, there in Cairo Prison. And she had smiled like the sun when he gave her Burns’s toolkit (that Burns had cornered him that evening and demanded payment for it was a secret he would take to his grave). Evelyn was a bright shining star and for the first time, Rick wondered what it would be like to stay in the orbit of such a woman, to live his life alongside her. Would she even want that? 

Sighing, Rick shook out his own blanket and settled down. The night was quiet; a couple of fellahin patrolled the camp. He could sleep for a few hours. Those men who had attacked them wouldn’t come back; they had given them a day to leave. It was time enough for Evelyn to open her sarcophagus and look for her book. _You know your history_ , she had said to him, and smiled. Rick looked across the fire at her. Maybe he could stop thinking of ancient artifacts as treasure and start seeing them through her eyes. Maybe she would hire him again on a safer kind of dig. Maybe tomorrow he would wake up before her and make some eggs and strong coffee to help with her hangover. Maybe she would even notice his interest and be flattered by it. Hell, Rick thought, letting his eyes drift shut, maybe she would even be interested back. 

He did make eggs and strong coffee in the morning, but neither Evelyn nor Jonathan were remotely hungover, which was both deeply unfair and a huge relief, considering how the rest of the day went. 

Author's Note: The Queen of Cups, in a love reading, is a positive sign that a relationship is progressing to a higher level. It's also fitting considering that Evie is drunk out of her gourd. Thank you for reading! I hope you liked this story. Please let me know what you think in the comments!


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